


Illusion

by Lady Divine Coldflash (fhartz91)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boyfriends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine%20Coldflash
Summary: Barry needs to find a way to fix things. To change things between him and Len. To stop the inevitable. But as smart as Barry is, with all of his super powers, are there some things that just can't be changed?





	Illusion

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Иллюзия](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790116) by [Rosy_Warner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosy_Warner/pseuds/Rosy_Warner)



> This is kind of a re-write of a one-shot I wrote for another fandom. Also, it has a twist to it, so you've been warned.

_Pop …_

_Sizzle …_

_Crackle …_

_Whir …_

The intense silence in the kitchen amplifies the sounds of breakfast cooking, but Barry’s mind has wandered so far from this room, the noise barely chips its way in. He’s working on autopilot, meandering from stove to sink to counter, paying no attention to where his feet land, his hands powered by déjà vu, not a thing pulling his notice – not the bacon, smoking in its oil, needing to be flipped; not the toast, popped in its slots, cooling for over thirty minutes; not the eggs he’s been whisking so fast they’re becoming meringue. A groan from upstairs jars him out of his stupor, and he finally looks down at the bowl of frothy pale yellow on its way to becoming white peaks. He glances over at the staircase, a huge lump settling above his Adam’s apple, then back at his eggs, and sighs. He was never that good at cooking anyway. Most of his adult life has been spent existing off of cold cereal and ramen soup when he wasn’t living with Joe and Iris. Of all his talents as a scientist and a superhero, whipping up pancakes or frying an egg wasn’t among them. Funny since cooking is basically science, a factoid that his boyfriend points out every morning Barry overcooks oatmeal.

Just this once, for _this_ breakfast, Barry had wanted to get something right.

Labored footsteps cross the floor overhead and Barry continues whisking. He’s in no danger of making anything out of the eggs at this point, but he can’t think of anything better to do. It’s not actually about the breakfast, it’s about this moment. He’s been waiting all morning for it, and now that it’s arrived, he’s not ready to face it.

 _Thunk, thunk, thunk_ – the sound of one-hundred seventy pounds of lean muscle making its way to the kitchen kicks Barry into overdrive. He zips around, collecting up the edible elements of the meal and laying them out on the table. If he’d been searching for self-satisfaction, he’d have to admit that the spread he comes up with – a stack of toast and another of waffles, the original pound of unburnt bacon, and a farmer’s market worth of diced fruit – is impressive, especially considering he doesn’t remember making any of it.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Len grumbles to the streak of red lightning serving up food. “The infamous Flash making breakfast for little ol’ me? Whatcha tryin’a do, Red? Fatten me up before you drag me off to Iron Heights? My last decent meal as a free man?” He runs a hand over his shaved head, suspiciously side-eyeing the wall clock as he makes his way to the table. “12:30? So, either you let me sleep late on purpose or you’re still not talking to me.” He takes a seat, reclining with his arms locked behind his head. Silver-blue eyes watch Barry hop between pans on the stove, preparing what looks like a colossal meal.

Big meals mean people, and Len’s not exactly in the mood.

“Are you expecting guests for breakfast, Red? Iris? Joe? The CCPD, perhaps?”

“No,” Barry says, cursing the hoarseness in his voice. He turns off the bacon, gives up on the eggs, and sets two empty plates down on the table. Barry has yet to look at Len, spread out in his chair, observing him curiously. He’s been on the edge of tears all morning and if he looks at his face, that smug smile and those mischievous blue eyes, he’s not going to make it through breakfast. Crap! He should have done this another day.

“So, you’re not still mad at me for last night’s little escapade?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Even after I did something you _expressly_ told me not to do? Something you said would destroy our relationship if I did?”

“Yes.”

Len’s eyelids narrow. “What about everything you said last night …?”

“I don’t care about that!” Barry slams his hand on the table hard, catching the lip of his plate and smashing it to bits. “I don’t care about any of it! Just forget it! Please? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for what I said, for every fight we ever had! Please, just …!”

"Barry?” Len gets up from his chair and takes Barry’s hand, bleeding from a long cut down the palm. It’s also healing up fast, pushing pieces of ceramic out of his skin as it does. But Len still leads him to the sink to wash it off. “Barry, what’s going on with you? You’re acting like a moody teenager. You’re usually not this weepy over me pulling a job. You’re usually more punchy and jabby.”

“I don’t like this,” Barry admits, looking Len in the eyes for the first time since he came down to breakfast. “I don’t like what’s going on. I haven’t for a while, and I don’t … I’m having a hard time handling it.”

“And what’s that?” Len asks, lips pinched tight in defiance even though his eyes still brim with concern. “You and me? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“No, Len!” A tired breath accompanies Barry’s words because it always comes back to _this_. No matter what the argument, Len brings it back to _them_ being together as Barry’s ultimate issue, as if running off on the Waverider at a moment’s notice to places unknown where Barry can’t contact him only to come home and pull jobs he swore off, with Barry eventually hunting him down to make sure he doesn’t end up dead – or _arrested_ \- would be less stressful than the two of them being together as a regular, every day couple. But that’s not how Len thinks. The everyday and the normal seem to be more of a burden to him than the shit he puts Barry through. “I … I just … I’m scared, Len! Scared you’ll walk out the door one day to a place I can’t go, I can’t find, and never come back! I don’t think I could handle it if you disappeared – blinked out of existence on another Earth or in another dimension!”

Len grins, his tight lips and concerned eyes melting into a cocky grin. “Oh, baby. We’ve been over this. I’m invincible, remember?”

Barry stares at his boyfriend, tears and screams and pleas threatening to split his skull, begging Len to see the truth. But Barry knows it’s no use. Nothing he can do, nothing he can say, will ever change what happens next.

Barry was right. He picked the wrong time for this.

“Yeah,” Barry sniffs sarcastically. “Yeah. You’re _invincible_.”

Len wraps his arms around Barry’s shoulders, confident he’s won this argument. And, of course, that means to the winner go the spoils.

“Say,” he starts, and Barry sighs, knowing where the conversation goes from here, “I know you spent all morning on this fantastic breakfast, but whaddya say you and I leave it for now, go upstairs, and maybe work up an appetite?”

Barry takes another look at Len’s handsome face, longer than the last, and shakes his head.

“Not today.” He takes a step back, the confusion on Len’s face heartbreaking, but Barry can’t. Not today. “Gideon? Pause simulation.”

“As you wish, Mr. Allen,” the melodic voice of the AI responds. The scene around him shifts, goes fuzzy. Except for Len’s face, which is crystal clear everywhere for Barry – here in STAR Labs and in his memory. Those memories have haunted Barry ever since the day the Waverider came back without Leonard Snart. Barry has been reliving those days within the confines of this program he’s created, mostly out of guilt, drudging up the details of how they left one another – Barry seething over a heist that didn’t matter in the long run, and Len, self-righteous as always, taking off without so much as a goodbye. Because Len wholeheartedly did believe he was invincible. He never would have conceived of the Waverider returning to Earth without him on it.

But what could Barry have done? How could he have changed things? If he could nail it down, then go back in time, maybe he could fix it. He created an algorithm inside Gideon’s programming to help him isolate it. He’s giving himself one shot. Considering how badly he tends to mess up timelines, he’d only take the one chance. Two if it seemed warranted.

But he hasn’t gotten to the point where he can will himself to take that next step.

Barry has an eidetic memory. He doesn’t need Gideon to regurgitate the same scenes from his final days with Len over and over until he tears his eyes out. All this is is an exercise in lying to himself. Because as much as he wants Len back, he wouldn’t have said the things he said to his simulation. He wouldn’t have completely absolved him. He couldn’t go against his principles, put the greater good in danger, for the man he loved.

Because Len and the things he did were dangerous.

But is there an alternative? In months of searching, Barry hasn’t found one. He’s not helping anyone by doing this. He’s torturing himself by giving himself hope that Len will come home one day and he can fix things between them.

But Len is gone. Dead and gone.

And Barry, with all his powers and all his talents, will never see him again.


End file.
